Chapter II

JACK CORRY stayed with the Bellews, and Norah Guiness listened in vain that night for the step to which she had become accustomed, and which made her heart beat more quickly when it approached.

Her boy brothers made many a journey to the gate to look for Jack, and grumbled loudly at his nonappearance.

Norah looked and spoke calmly enough. She told the boys they must not be selfish. They had seen a great deal of Jack Corry lately, and must not expect him always to give them so much of his time. But while Norah spoke bravely, she was conscious of a strange foreboding for which she could not account, and against which she battled bravely, but in vain.

The boys accused her of being cross, and then felt ashamed of themselves, and said so, when she proved the contrary by her extra kindness. Her father thought her very silent, and began to tell, what was news to Norah, that Mrs. Bellew and Jeannie were back at Benvora.

The girl's face brightened directly.

"Then, of course, Jack had gone to see them. How could he do anything else? I am so glad, for Jeannie must be a great deal better, or they would not have ventured to return. Mr. Bellew did not expect them until May, and it is only the middle of April. How delighted he will be!"

The weight was gone; the cloud was nowhere to be seen. Norah, in the singleness of her heart, was rejoicing in the joy of others, and feeling that if Jack Corry had not gone straight to Benvora that evening, he would have fallen many degrees in her estimation. He would come to them the next night, no doubt.

But Jack did not come, and a week passed before he at length made his appearance. Then somehow, he was not quite the same Jack who had last parted with Norah, who had lingered over his leave-taking, and by the look from his eyes had caused hers to droop, and her heart to beat more quickly. He was kind, of course; Jack Corry could be nothing else. He had brought things for the boys which enriched them for the time, and called forth the remark, "Jack, you are the biggest brick living." Whereat he had laughed as merrily as usual. He had talked cheerily to Mr. Guiness, and then—well, he had no time to steal to Norah's side and talk to her whilst she worked, or beg for a favourite song. Only just enough for a hurried good-night, and he was gone, almost without waiting for an answer, quite without the lingering farewell or one of the looks which had been silently telling a love story to Norah for months past.

Jack was gone—doubly gone—and Norah, quick to note the change in their pleasant guest, began to ask herself what could have brought it about.

During the last few days she and Jeannie Bellew had exchanged visits, and Norah had been struck with the subtle difference which had taken place in the girl during her absence from home. That daintily-dressed young lady, with her self-possessed manners and knowledge of the outer world, could hardly be Jeannie, her girl friend and junior by a couple of years. Then she was so changeable. At one moment she was almost patronising to Norah, and would give herself little airs which made the elder girl smile. Again, she would throw off all the crust she had gathered during her travels, and seem the most artless, loving, childish creature imaginable.

As Norah reviewed the position, her eyes were opened to many things of which she had hitherto thought little. For instance, the difference between Jeannie Bellew's surroundings and her own had never troubled her in the least. Benvora was the home of wealth, and all the luxuries that money could buy were found in profusion beneath its roof.

In the Guinesses' rambling old house a new article was the exception, and there were few superfluities. Comfort and order prevailed in every part of it; but its contents had a well-worn look, which suggested that money was not too plentiful with its occupants. Yet the Guinesses were rather proud of their home, which, like their name, was no thing of to-day. The house had stood for many a year, and sheltered several generations of a family that was well respected far and near. Socially speaking, the Guinesses stood higher than the Bellews. Jeannie's father had begun the world with no capital, but good business talents combined with industry and perseverance. His wife's little fortune had enabled him to begin in a small way, and at forty-five he was a rich man.

In the old days—that is, two or three years before—Norah Guiness had never noted word or look on Jeannie Bellew's part that indicated a consciousness of the difference in their worldly circumstances. The latter had been rather proud than otherwise to call Norah her friend, and to be welcomed in the picturesque old house in which she was mistress. But when Norah went to see Jeannie as soon as possible after her return, she became conscious of a change in her friend. She could not have said in what it consisted, but there was a self-complacency about the girl, a manner which seemed to bid Nora realise all the advantages of her position when compared with those she possessed, that jarred on the visitor's sensitive nature.

She noticed how Jeannie glanced at her simple dress, and then looked down at the tasteful combination of soft falling silk, lace and ribbons, which was draped so gracefully about her own person; and how her fingers wandered for a moment amongst the folds, as if she found a subtle pleasure in touching the dainty materials, and mentally contrasting them with what met her eye as she looked at Norah.

Then again, when Jeannie returned the visit, Norah could not help seeing a sort of half-pitying expression on her face, as she looked round the drawing-room, and her eyes rested on its so-called ornaments.

"If I were you, I would make a clean sweep of a lot of these things. I know they have 'associations,' but I would pack them—associations and all—into a big box and put them in the garret. They would keep just as well there, and you might make this room one of the most picturesque places imaginable. I would help you, dear. I have seen so much since I left home that one could never get an idea of in this quiet place, you know," said Jeannie.

"I could never love any place so well," replied Norah; and she added, "I am not sure that I should care for the wider experiences you have had, especially if I must purchase them by previous illness. However, I am glad you have no longer that excuse for running away from old friends."

"I am very well now, but I am glad too that illness gives one many advantages. That is, if one's father has plenty of money. If I had never been ill, I should have been mewed up at Benvora, and seen nothing of the world. Now it is delightful to come back too, for a while, and to think over all the fun I have had."

Then Jeannie returned to the charge about the furniture.

"May I help you to remodel this room, Norah?"

"My dear Jeannie, were I to make the clean sweep you name, the room would be horribly bare-looking. I do not agree with making a place ugly because of 'associations,' but without our present 'ornaments,' my reception room would be a wilderness."

"There are the loveliest muslins and cretonnes, ever so cheap," began Jeannie; but Norah stopped her by saying quietly—

"I have no money for such things, dear."

"You cannot mean that, Norah. They would cost so little."

"I do mean it, Jeannie, though perhaps many beside yourself would hardly believe me. I think I must keep on saying it, for if people plead poverty, those who hear generally give them credit for ample means," added Norah, with a light laugh.

Afterwards, it seemed to the girl as if she became conscious of many wants and defects in her surroundings, of which before Jeannie's visit she had been blissfully unaware. It was in those first few days, too, that Jack Corry's defection took place, and after his hurried call, Norah remembered, with acute pain, the glance he had cast at her comparatively countrified dress.

"He will compare Jeannie's surroundings with mine; her dainty silks and laces, her costly furs at hand when needed, with my simple stuffs and cottons; and my plain cloth jacket, which is in its third season, and which I have been taking such care of that it may last another! And Jeannie can be so charming that no one can withstand her. As a child she could do as she liked with me, even. Well, if it should be so, I only hope that she may not play with Jack's heart. I should be sorry for that; after all, I should like them both to be happy and true, if they care for each other."

Dear, unselfish Norah! A little sob followed this mental communing, for Jack Corry was the first who had stirred the depths of her pure, tender heart, and how could she help knowing that he had wooed her with everything but words? At their last meeting before Jeannie's return, these had seemed trembling on his lips; and now!

Norah's prophetic foreboding was speedily fulfilled. Jack Corry, as her young brothers said, was "for ever at Benvora, or riding or walking with Jeannie Bellew."

Her parents were evidently in favour of such companionship, and Mrs. Bellew especially smiled benignly on handsome Jack Corry, as he became daily more marked in his attentions to the girl. She had a talk with her husband on the subject, for, truth to say, Mr. Bellew was not at first altogether satisfied with the turn affairs had taken, and he said so.

"We seldom disagree, James, but I must own I am glad of it. What could be better than for Jeannie and Jack to marry? She is certain to be much run after. Whilst we have been away I have been kept in continual dread lest some mere adventurer should succeed in gaining her affections. It is wonderful how people get to know about you and your concerns, no matter how far you may be from home. Quite unintentionally, I overheard conversations which were never meant for my ears, and I know that your position and Jeannie's probable fortune were freely discussed. One of the speakers had the impertinence to say that the little heiress would be a great catch for somebody. Think of that, James," added Mrs. Bellew, indignantly.

"I have not a word against Jack Corry. He is, as a whole, a steady, right-principled young man, handsome enough to mate with our bonnie Jeannie, and whilst he is very kind, he is by no means weak of will, but—"

"I do not see that there is room for a but in regard to Jack. We have known him all his life; he has ample means, and comes of a good family. If he and Jeannie care for each other, and in due time marry, we shall keep her near us, and have a son to our own liking. Think, James, what a stay it would be if we have to go away again for the winter, for Jeannie to go as an engaged girl. I should not like to spend another season like the two last, and without you."

Mrs. Bellew sighed, and looked troubled at the remembrance. She had gone through a most painful experience, some of the details of which she had kept from her husband, in order to spare him anxiety.

Jeannie's health, though such as to render the change imperative, had not been of a kind to prevent her from mixing in the society she and her mother were placed amongst by reason of their hotel life. Even during the first winter the girl's head had been a little turned by the attentions she received, though she was only in her seventeenth year. She was pretty enough to attract them, though probably she owed a large share of the notice she received to the report of her father's wealth, and the fact of her being an only child and his heiress.

Mrs. Bellew had found her position a most difficult one. Her daughter must not be unduly excited, for fear of ill consequences. She had already become accustomed to following her own sweet will when at home, because of her position and the over fondness of her parents, and her mother was in equal dread of contradicting Jeannie and of giving way to the new whims born of her novel surroundings.

To the girl, accustomed to constant oversight, it seemed a new and delightful amusement to baffle Mrs. Bellew's efforts to continue it, and the residence in a large hotel offered endless opportunities for evading her mother. The practice, begun in a spirit of fun, was continued in a less innocent one, and Mrs. Bellew was pained beyond measure to find that Jeannie had spent many hours in undesirable companionship, and that the gossips were beginning to talk of "the little heiress," and couple her name with that of an idle sojourner under the same roof who was said to be looking out for a young wife with money.

Happily for the girl, the acquaintance was promptly ended. Apart from the gossip alluded to, no harm followed. Jeanie had acted thoughtlessly, and been amused by the talk of one who had seen much, and could talk brilliantly, and who, though a mere butterfly so far as the world's work was concerned, was nothing worse.

The second winter Miss Bellew seemed well able to take care of herself; but her mother could not help feeling that the sweet artlessness of her child was gone, and that at eighteen Jeannie was a very worldly young person, and rapidly becoming a very heartless one, though as a rule she was admired for her charming simplicity and girlishness, the semblance of which she still kept up.

With such memories it was not wonderful that Mrs. Bellew looked forward with glad anticipation to the probability of an engagement between Jeannie and Jack Corry as a happy settlement of all her difficulties, and did not like her husband's "but," when his attentions were alluded to. It came again, however.

"There is no one I should prefer to Jack; but, my dear, I doubt whether he is doing right in paying such court to Jeannie," said Mr. Bellew. "Whilst you were away he went a great deal to the Guinesses, and I for one thought that matters were as good as made up between him and Norah. Other people thought so too, and if Jack Corry meant nothing, he ought never to have acted as if he did. Jeannie's coming has made the difference, and I do not like to think about it."

"Jack's name has always been brought up as looking after one girl or other," said Mrs. Bellew, "and there has been nothing in it, only people are so fond of meddling in what is no business of theirs. Jack is such a favourite, and he is kind all round, you know."

"But Norah's affair has been different, and Norah herself is not like most of the girls. I should be terribly grieved if our Jeannie were to be the cause of pain to her old friend. Our girl is too young yet to know her own mind, and I should be glad to see a few more years pass over her head before she chooses a partner for life."

"She could never choose one more suitable in every way than Jack Corry," persisted Mrs. Bellew. "If he had any little feeling towards Norah Guiness, and it has passed away, we cannot help that. Better he should find out his mistake before it is too late, for both their sakes. She is a good girl, but she is not like Jeannie," added the mother, with conscious pride in her darling.

"No, she is not like Jeannie," echoed Mr. Bellew; and he did not wonder at any man being charmed by his daughter.

All the same, he felt sorry for Norah, very sorry. He hoped she did not think much about Jack Corry. At any rate, he could not interfere, though he sighed and shook his head, as if he were by no means satisfied at the present state of things.